Страница 52 из 66
She got out of the bed, avoiding a small puddle of what looked like water on the floor between the bed and the window. She went to the bathroom. The pill vials were scattered on the counter. She remembered having the worst migraine of her life and barely managing to get the medicine in her.
She remembered thinking how much better off everyone would be if she’d just end it all.
Then passing back out.
Memphis had come to her again. As had Baldwin. That much she remembered. Her cheeks flamed. It had felt so real. But neither man was here. It was impossible.
Something was not right. Something was very much not right. She felt like she was sick, but didn’t feel ill, not like the flu or a cold. She felt…shattered.
The bathroom window showed her a magical world, a snowstorm that was blowing flakes by the window so hard that it looked like a white sheet had been spread across the glass.
Taylor stripped and got under the shower. Let the hot water work its magic on her sore muscles. Goodness, she hurt from head to toe.
She stayed under the double heads until she was getting wrinkled, then toweled herself off, wrapped her hair in the damp towel and went to the computer.
She needed to talk to someone about all of this. Opened her email. There was a message from Sam. Perfect.
Taylor clicked on the message, shocked to see Sam writing in all caps, like she was yelling at her. The message was abundantly clear:
STOP TAKING THE PILLS!
Out of habit, Taylor looked at the note below it that Sam was responding to. She read a long, rambling diatribe that she’d apparently written in the middle of the night. It was more cogent than she’d felt. She didn’t remember writing it, just the vaguest sense of moving about her room and getting her laptop out. She checked the time stamp. Good grief, she had written it last night, in the middle of her hallucinations.
Great. Now she was imagining things and writing letters she couldn’t recall sending. She had gotten sick last night, that much she was sure of. She could taste it in her throat.
She reread the email. It made little sense, but was clear on one thing. She had felt she was losing her mind.
And maybe last night, she was.
But now, in the cold light of day, her body so wretchedly empty, she didn’t think that was the case. She thought Sam had a very good point.
The pills.
Oh, hell. The tea.
Trixie.
Taylor grabbed her phone. She’d turned the ringer off somehow. There were eight missed calls from Sam and four from Baldwin.
She didn’t even bother listening to the messages. If Sam had sent her something wild and crazy in the middle of the night, Taylor would have immediately tried to touch base, and, failing, would have moved on to Sam’s husband, Simon. Since Sam hadn’t reached her, she’d obviously checked with Baldwin, who’d started his own campaign.
No calls from Memphis. Hmm. He obviously hadn’t been pulled into the red alert.
She looked at the clock. It was six in the morning in Scotland, which meant midnight in Nashville. She’d be forgiven if she woke the twins. She dialed Sam’s number. Sam answered on the first ring, her voice ringing with concern.
“Taylor Bethany Jackson, I have been worried sick about you. Why did you turn your phone off? Don’t answer that. You better have a damn good reason for freaking me out like this. You scared the living daylights out of me. Losing your mind? You? Where the hell have you been?”
“I…”
“Your voice is gone again? Open a chat right now. And don’t you dare hang up. I’ll wait. Are you okay?”
“No. Give me a minute.” God, it felt like she was swallowing glass. She must have been screaming in her sleep. She drank some water and tried again.
“I’m fine. You said no more pills. How did you know?”
“It’s hardly a secret. Dr. Benedict prescribed you the Percocet and Ativan, plus the Fioricet. After your bad response to the Ambien, I thought maybe you were having a reaction to one of them. You always react backward to meds, remember? And if I know you, you may have been taking too much of the Percocet. Why, what pills are you talking about?”
“Maddee, Dr. James. Memphis’s friend? Gave me melatonin. I was thinking that might be causing a reaction. But Sam, I think I know what’s happening. I think Trixie is poisoning me.”
She heard Sam take a deep breath. “Now, honey—”
“Don’t honey me. I’m dead serious. And very, very sober right now. Trust me. Something is wrong with that woman. She’s always lurking around my door. She’s fed me tea fourteen times a day since I got here. That has to be what’s happening. I bet she thinks I’m trying to replace Evan. She probably loved Evan. Everyone seemed to.”
“Taylor. Listen to yourself. Sweetie, I think we need to get you home.”
“I don’t disagree. I’ve had quite enough of this place.”
“Are you still having hallucinations?”
Taylor looked around the room, waiting for the telltale red wave to start. Nothing. Maybe she’d gotten it all out of her system when she threw up. She pulled the towel off her hair and shook her head. Still nothing, outside of the pounding headache.
“No. I feel better right now. Clearer. The…visions come at weird intervals. I keep seeing red flashes out of the corner of my eye, and get the sense someone’s watching me. Then I see the Pretender, just standing there. Like he’s waiting for me.”
“God, Taylor, I’m sorry. You tried to tell me, and I just assumed…”
“I don’t remember typing that letter.”
“That was one seriously fucked-up email, girl.”
“It’s been a seriously fucked-up few days. Sam? I need to tell you something. Please don’t yell at me, okay?”
Sam answered carefully. “What is it?”
“I think I slept with Memphis.”
The screech that was heard around the world rang through the phone. “What? When?”
In for a pe
“The night before he left. The night we kissed on the bridge. I thought I had the door barred. There’s always someone creeping around this place. I don’t like the access they have. Hell, they probably have some sort of secret passageway or something. It seems like people can get in my room even if the door’s locked. I hate feeling like I’m not totally alone. At least that I could handle. Anyway, after I went to bed, I had a bad nightmare. Trixie brought me tea, then he came in my room. Things got pretty out of hand.”
“When did you start feeling strange, Taylor?”
“The second night I was here.”
“You said you think you slept with him. You mean there’s some doubt in your mind about it?”
Doubt. Yes. She was starting to doubt everything.
“There wasn’t until last night. At the time, it felt awfully real. But it was totally weird. He wasn’t there when I woke up, which felt really odd. Then he acted like nothing had happened at breakfast. Actually left for London without a single word about it, no flirting, no i
“No, it doesn’t.”
“I’ll admit, I was hurt. And embarrassed. But, Sam, what if it didn’t happen at all? What if I hallucinated the whole thing? It would explain the way he was behaving.”
Sam was quiet for a minute. When she spoke again, her voice was gentler, not as angry. “Taylor, that might be wishful thinking. Are you sure you’re not feeling remorseful and just wishing you hadn’t slept with him? ’Cause it’s kind of hard not to know if you’ve had sex.”
“I know that. And yes, I’ve regretted it, every minute of it. It was wrong. If I did it, I shouldn’t have.”
“True.”
“Sam, come on.”
“What do you want me to say, Taylor? I’m not going to condone it. You know he’s not high on my list of favorite people.”
“Trust me, you’ve made that abundantly clear. But listen to the rest before you make up your mind. This is going to sound crazy, all right? Last night, Memphis was here. With me. Again. We were… But so was Baldwin. And Maddee’s husband.”